


A Warm Place

by babywarg (morphaileffect)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pets, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 00:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17131478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphaileffect/pseuds/babywarg
Summary: An adopted puppy ruminates on his new home, and on the members of his new family.





	A Warm Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tuples](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuples/gifts).



> My first Supreme Family fic! My thanks to [eclair](https://www.instagram.com/claircolors/) for the lovely prompt. Puppies are ♥

My new home is many miles off the ground.

It's very different from the shelter.

For starters, the shelter was cold. My cage was far from the source of heat. The older dogs were closer, which makes sense, but there were times, especially at night, when the blanket in my cage just wasn't warm enough.

Here, there's warmth everywhere. At every time of day. No need for a blanket.

It's warmest when I see my humans, which is every day. I don't always see them together all at once, but it's always a happy day when I do.  
  
I think it's going to be one of those happy days. Warm Chest took me for my morning walk today while brimming over with energy and excitement.

That usually means Warm Hands and Warm Boy are coming over.

**Warm Chest**

Warm Chest is the one I see most often. I think he owns this house.

He walks me most mornings. There are mornings when other people walk me, but when that happens, Warm Chest always seems apologetic and hugs me just a little bit longer before our walk.

Warm Chest never holds me for very long. I think he's scared about holding things close to him, because they might get burned.

He has a really warm chest. I can’t see very well, but I see the light coming out of it. Like a little sun.

I wish he would hug me more and longer. I'm small, but I don't burn easy. His chest is warm, and I like warm things.

 

**Warm Hands**

There’s a man who comes to my new home to visit.

He doesn’t hold me for very long. His hands shake. But he's not sick at all.

I feel like he doesn't like holding things for too long because he's afraid that he's hurting them...or that he'll drop them.

I think he’s a lot like Warm Chest like that.

Warm Hands is different from Warm Chest, though. He seems calmer. Taller. Younger. And scarier.

When he says “stop” or “no” or “don’t” in a really deep voice, my ears fold back and I fall still.

When Warm Chest does it, I just want to lick his face and play some more.

Sometimes Warm Hands joins Warm Chest on our morning walks. Sometimes he just comes over to sit with us quietly, or to talk to Warm Chest about things.

Sometimes he passes his shaking fingers lightly over my eyes and says something... I can never tell what it is. But it always sounds apologetic.

I wonder why, though? I was born with these bad eyes. They aren’t his fault.

I think Warm Hands and Warm Chest like each other a lot. Their scents and tones of voice change when they're around each other. The way they stand near each other, almost touching except not quite when other people are around, sometimes makes my tail wag.

Their faces are fuzzy. I like rubbing my face against their faces.

I think they like rubbing their faces against each other, too. They sure seem to do that a lot when there are no other people around.

 

**Warm Boy**

Warm Boy was the one who found me, when bad things were going on.

There was an explosion that blew off a wall of my shelter, and my cage was tossed about until it opened.

A lot of other cages didn’t open. I heard the other dogs crying. I followed their cries to where they lay and did my best to open as many cages as I could.

It wasn’t easy. Not all latches were the same. If I couldn’t work out how to open one latch, I said “I’m sorry” and moved on to another.

That was how Warm Boy found me.

He must have known I was wounded, though I don’t know if he knew I had bad eyes. He opened the remaining cages, all of them, while holding me close with one hand.

And when the bad things had stopped, Warm Boy brought me to Warm Hands, who healed me, and then Warm Chest, who took me home.

 _Everything_ about the boy is warm.

It’s like he’s made of fire and fun and life and all things _not cold_.

He hugs me a lot and I like it. I like it when he runs and I follow his laughter around the park, or the room. I like when he picks me up before I fall off or hit something. I like how he keeps me safe.

He comes over most nights so he can walk me, and Warm Chest sometimes comes along.

They talk, and even if Warm Chest often sounds gruff, I can tell he likes Warm Boy a lot.

The boy has named me, I think, but I haven’t been here long, so it’s difficult to tell...

And I can't tell what his name is. Warm Chest calls him "Kid." Warm Hands calls him "Peter." And, to add to my confusion, he calls both of them "Dad."

I'm sure I'm going to get the hang of this, eventually.

 

**Warm Home**

I like being a part of this family.

In this warm place so high up from the ground.

When I’m with all of them, I’m reminded of my litter, which I left behind so long ago, when I came to the shelter.

It feels like being complete.

I feel the happiness that flows between the three of them, and I feel like I’m part of that happiness, too.

I can’t wait for us all to be together today.

It’s going to be the best day.


End file.
